The Voice From the Rubble
by The Water Daemon
Summary: Who should you feel sorry for?


Author's Note: This is a one shot. It ends where I stopped writing.  
  
"Please. . .please help me."  
  
The world was freezing. No-it was not actually cold outside, now that he thought about it. The air around him had an autumn bite to it, and there was a chilly breeze every so often, but to say that it was freezing was completely inaccurate. The overall atmosphere, however, could be merited as freezing, for there was not a sound in the air except the small voice, sounding like the tinkling of bells against the surrounding silence.  
  
Most of the town was gone down-reduced easily by the advanced technology that the invading troops had utilized. What remained was now mostly debris, enormous heaps of rubble where happy little stores used to be, smiling vendors selling their items and calling through the dense crowds for people to buy their items. Where luxurious houses, mansions and even apartment complexes stood, there was piles of dust, broken glass and collapsed framework, scorched black with blasts from fire and explosions.  
  
"Is. . .is anybody there?"  
  
The sky above crackled with electricity, an oncoming storm bubbling over the sky, the dark clouds glaring down at the wreckage beneath them, disapproving of it. The flames of war had long since died, the storms having ceased to quench them days ago. Now, they rained over what remained of the wasteland that had once been the proud, bustling city of Neopia Central. The rain started as a drizzle, but soon increased to a downpour, soaking the Lupe's thick pelt through and through. His metallic blade was cleansed by the pouring rain. He liked the feel of it-it was a refreshing change from the parching dryness of battle.  
  
"I'm here, please. . .somebody help me. . . ."  
  
The rain ran through the ruts of the dry ground, devoid of grass, demolished from all of the tramping and explosions. The ground had been dry too long, though, and seemed to firmly reject from soaking in the nourishing water, the water level slowly rising around the debris. The Lupe trod to higher ground to avoid getting overly soaked, shaking himself slightly to rid himself of the particles of water that weighed him down. He dropped his blade, leaving it among the rubble, hoping to forget about it as he hoped to forget about the past few days.  
  
Was this victory? Yes, he supposed it was. As he looked over the land from the top of the debris pile, he could see slight movement around him, but only could hear that single voice, the voice without a face. The figures in the background were scampering through the gravel, looking for fallen comrades, searching for remnants of their houses, heirlooms, among other things. Civilians. All of the warriors were elsewhere, the majority of the civilians in other lands, having fled once the invasion began. For him? It was all gone. He had nothing to look for.  
  
"I'm so cold. . . ."  
  
Except for that voice.  
  
He inhaled deeply, his sharp sense of smell inspecting everything around him. The rain muffled it considerably, but he could still make some things out-mostly the pungent scent of a mixture of blood and dirt, as well as sulfur. Above, thunder crackled loudly and lightning lanced through the sky, lighting his way. As he trudged forwards, he wondered who it was-maybe his owner, his sweet owner. His owner that the last thing he had seen of her was her shining green eyes, terrified, screaming.  
  
But no. She was female, and it was a distinctly masculine voice.  
  
Maybe it was one of his friends. His so many friends who had fought beside him against those horrible Mutants, their insane eyes and sharp teeth. Minions, warriors in their own right. Horrified and scared to pissing themselves just like him, but putting up a front, doing only what their orders told them. Just like himself. They were just like him, albeit their appearance, and still he had fought against them, relishing in their losses. He felt his shoulders sag heavily underneath the burden of the knowledge. He squeezed his eye shut and tried to forget about it. Just listen to the voice. Just listen to the voice.  
  
"Make the pain go away. . .please. . . ."  
  
He migrated towards the voice, and felt a great hatred building up inside of himself for the man that had started all of this. No. . .not a man, but a monster in his own right, inducing all kinds of horrors on their innocent and pure world. Agonizing poor pets by turning them into disgusting mutants. Conquering lands that did not belong to him. The man that had, consequently, taken his owner away from him, his beautiful owner, so kind, stroking behind his ears just as he liked it. Her voice had always been like beautiful chimes in his ears.  
  
He hoped, no, he prayed that the rotten scum had gotten the justice that he deserved. If he had been given half the chance, he told himself, he would've ripped the man to ribbons, leaving nothing behind. Sadistic images came into his mind of horrible torture, and a twisted grin spread across his face, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth against the flash of lightning. What he would give to feel his teeth around that monster's throat, to feel his blood course from his body into the Lupe's waiting mouth. To literally taste the sweet flavor of revenge.  
  
". . .Anybody. . . ."  
  
He could smell the voice's source now, getting so much closer. He climbed through the rubble carefully, looking as closely as he could for anybody. In the back of his mind, he continued to entertain the thoughts of the horrors he would commit on the monster, what he was capable of doing with such blind hatred coursing through his blood. It would be hot-blooded murder, not the cold-blooded like the monster himself had committed so many times over.  
  
"Here! I'm here!"  
  
The voice was coming from directly beneath him now, and he looked to see that he was standing upon a large piece of rubble. It would be quite a hassle for him to move, but he would still be able to, if he contributed all his strength to the task. Moving to one side of the rubble, he pushed his shoulder against it. It proved more heavy than he had estimated it to be, even as he exerted all of his energy into it. He tapped into his hatred, pouring it all out onto the piece of debris, gritting his teeth. He so vividly pictures the images in his mind, he could sense the sharp metallic taste of blood. Soon, he realized he was just biting his tongue too hard and had caused himself yet another injury.  
  
With his last ounce of strength, the debris finally budged, giving a slow groan as it began to slip away, gaining momentum and then falling away completely out of its own will, tumbling down the hill of debris and landing at the bottom, splashing in the water. "Don't worry, I'm-" he began as he moved so he could see into the hole. He found his own words choking himself as he looked down, his dark brown eyes widening to astronomical proportions.  
  
Beneath the rubble, wedged solidly between the debris was an all too familiar face. Thick red blood poured steadily from a head wound, the crimson contrasting drastically with the victim's green skin. His deep red eyes looked eagerly up at the Lupe, a small smile gracing his usually frowning and scowling lips. A face which was normally seen glaring down at others, a cruel grin displayed on his lips now replaced with a ray of hope, a helpless smile, reduced to such a pathetic state of uselessness, of utter vulnerability.  
  
The Lupe gagged, offset by the suddenness of seeing who the captive had really been. He drew back, his fantasies of slaughtering the man before him now seeming barbaric and unreasonable. Yet now he had the power, the ability, to commit them, crimes he had only moments before justified in his mind. He would only have to reach down to complete his plans, his dreams of bloodlust, to take up the helpless man and do whatever he may have liked to him.  
  
For a moment, though, the rage temporarily returned to him, and he reached down into the pit, remembering his owner's soft face, the terrible and vivid cries of his friends falling down in battle. He reached down and seized the monster by his collar, pulling him up, but not able to pull him all the way out, due to the fact his leg was caught on something. The man cried out in pain, an expression of agony jolting across his face, coupled by a distant crack from below him. The man's wails were horrible in his ears, and the Lupe cringed.  
  
"Shut up!" he shouted at him, glaring him right in the eye. "Shut up! Shut up! Who are you to cry? Who are you to feel pain? You took everything from me? What was taken from you? What right do you have?!" screamed the Lupe, shaking him roughly. "WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE?!"  
  
The man looked confused and questioning into the Lupe's eyes, looking like a young child caught at doing something bad. His expression shifted, however, to one of sorrow, of regret and almost pity for the Lupe in a strange sense. His eyes seemed to glimmer with tears, a single one streaking down his filthy face. "Do you want to know why I did it?" he asked suddenly. "Why I killed so many people, intentionally or not? Why I would ever want to do such a thing?"  
  
"My owner. . .you killed her. You killed all of my friends."  
  
"Do you stop to consider. . .if I wanted to?"  
  
"Murder is not something which you have an option in, you scum! You're just trying to stop me from killing you, to spare your pathetic excuse for a life! All I've wanted to do is kill you ever since this started! To have your blood on my hands!"  
  
"Does that really make you any different from me then?"  
  
The Lupe paused, as if he had been slapped in the face, his expression looking quite shocked. Just as soon as the look had come, however, it passed-he snarled angrily, narrowing his eyes dangerously. "Don't give me that crap-trying to make me feel guilty for things that you've done. You're below me. You have no power, no right to do as such." The Lupe opened his mouth and lunged forwards for the man's neck, ready to clamp down on it. He hesitated, though, in the execution, the words having gotten deeper than he let on.  
  
"Why did you do it?" the Lupe whispered suddenly, directly into the man's ear. The man was quiet, closing his eyes, the two not looking at each other. Both could hear each other's breathing-both was conscious of the other's life, little as they may have had left. The hammering of each other's hearts were audible in the utter silence, the only other intrusion the pounding of the rain against their bodies, dripping off of them. Though they did not know, their expressions mirrored each other, appearing exactly identical: afraid.  
  
"Do you know the pain of isolation? Do you know how it feels to never be picked, to never be noticed, to never be appreciated, to never know parental love? Have you ever had the whole world ignore you, letting you wallow in your own misery? To not have a single friend in the world, at least someone you could talk to? Have you ever felt the need to be noticed, no matter what it would require to have yourself noticed? Felt that the only way you could get close to people was to make them fear you?"  
  
The Lupe did not speak-he only stared forwards, eyes narrowed, staring blankly into the gray, dismal space behind. His face was completely devoid of emotion as the man spoke into his ears, his voice quavering.  
  
"I did it because I didn't want to be alone anymore."  
  
The Lupe's grip on the man slowly loosened, his expression still stony and unmoving. The man slipped back into the hole in the rubble, a helpless look returning to his face. The Lupe looked down on the man below him, who only minutes before he had been desiring to kill. He could only stare, looking at him, unable to figure out his folded and twisted personality, his motives that seemed so simple, yet were at the same time so strangely complex.  
  
"Are you just going to leave me here?" he asked, the man's look desperate. "Please, don't leave me here. . .I don't want to die. . ." The Lupe turned around stiffly, as if he were just learning to move. The man's voice became more frantic, sounding as if he were trying to make excuses, begging to be saved. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this! It's all my fault. . .it all went wrong. I turned into. . .I turned into this thing. . .I'm. . .I'm scared. I'm scared of myself. Of what I'm capable of doing."  
  
The Lupe stood facing the other direction steadily, barely blinking. His body felt drained of emotion, of the strong hatred he had been feeling recently. He could only feel the numbness deep inside, a horrible numbness creeping throughout his whole body, making him feel so terribly apathetic. He could hear the sobbing cries of the pitiful former villain, praying, pleading, begging, but never threatening.  
  
"Save me, please. . .save me from myself."  
  
The Lupe took one step forward, shaking, and slowly began to walk away. 


End file.
